


Will Testify For Doughnuts

by mrs_d



Category: due South
Genre: Especially when lawyers need a kick in the teeth, Humor, Inspired By Tumblr, Inspired by Real Events, M/M, Ray hates going to court
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-26 01:03:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6217363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_d/pseuds/mrs_d
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I move that the court be adjourned until such time as Constable Diefenbaker’s paperwork can be presented in full."</p><p>“That might be kind of tricky,” Ray muttered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this post on Tumblr](http://mrsdawnaway.tumblr.com/post/138241478559/chantillyxlacey-wewerein-finite-so-in).
> 
> Please note that I know very little of legal proceedings, so mass errors may abound below!
> 
> Warning for very brief, non-specific mention of animal cruelty.

Ray hated court days, always had. Well, maybe that wasn’t strictly true; when Stella got promoted, they weren’t too bad. She couldn’t let any venom out in the courtroom, so they retreated into their immature best friend alter egos, which was always a little bit fun. But now that Stella had run off to Florida with Ray’s old nom-de-plum, he was left facing Jack Diamond, the best defense attorney in Chicago, with no one to make funny faces at when the guy wasn’t looking.

Which was too bad, because at least when he was laughing at Diamond behind his back he didn’t want to give the shark a good kick in the teeth.

“The State calls Detective Stanley Raymond Kowalski to the stand,” announced Stella’s replacement, a weedy little lawyer by the name of Plack, whose tweed suit looked baggy on his narrow shoulders.  

Ray got to his feet with a sigh and went up the aisle to the box. Diamond gave him a smile faker than a plastic quarter, and Ray wished Stella was there, so he could stick his tongue out, and she could roll her eyes and try not to smile.

He tried it once with Fraser, but the action earned him a lecture when they got home that night, a big one about professional integrity and faith in the courts and respect for fellow law-abiding something-or-others. Ray tried to explain to him that defense attorneys weren’t exactly people, but it didn’t work out. Well, it did, eventually. Making up was the best part of fighting with Fraser now that it didn’t involve sinking ships and impromptu trips across the Arctic.

More like impromptu trips across the kitchen table, Ray thought with a smirk as he swore to tell the truth, the whole truth, and all that other stuff.

“Something amusing, Detective Kowalski?” asked the Honorable Judge Samuels.

“Uh, no, Your Honor,” Ray replied hastily, wiping the goofy look off his face as he sat down.

Plack got started with the questions, pretty basic stuff. Ray thought the case was open and shut, but Stella always said he lacked an appreciation for the séances of the justice system, or something like that, so he’d gone over everything with Fraser last night. Fraser’d been his partner on the case in everything but name, so he was happy to help Ray make sure this scumbag would go to jail for a long time for what he did to those animals. Fraser even gave him some good ammunition — words like _heinous_ and _appalling_ — and Ray made sure to look at the jury when he said them.

Finally, Plack told the court he had no further questions, and Diamond got to his feet.

“Now, Detective Kowalski — do you mind if I call you Stanley?” he asked, like he always did.

“Yes,” Ray said shortly.

“All right, then,” the shark replied smoothly. “Detective Kowalski, you work closely with the RCMP, do you not? You liaise with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police often, a Constable Benton Fraser?”

“Yeah, you could say that we liaise,” Ray answered, pleased with himself for keeping a straight face.

“Constable Fraser has no jurisdiction here, but, by all accounts he’s your partner, is that correct?”

“Correct,” Ray affirmed.

“So, Detective, why is there another constable named in your report into the activities of my client?”

Ray opened his mouth and then closed it again. “Uh,” he began, but Diamond cut him off, holding up a piece of paper.

“Is this your report, Detective Kowalski?”

Ray pushed his glasses up and examined it. “Looks like it, yeah.”

“You’ll notice, Detective, that you have noted nearly all evidence in the case against my client was discovered by Constables Fraser and Diefenbaker of the RCMP.”

“What?” said Ray. “That can’t be right, let me see that.”

Diamond held it up in front of his face, and Ray saw the problem. Somewhere along the line, there’d been a typo, an extra _s_ , which made it seem like Dief was a cop, too.

“Well, you see,” Ray began, but Diamond didn’t let him finish.

“I would like to know where Constable Diefenbaker’s report is, Detective Kowalski, since apparently he’s responsible for my client’s arrest.”

“Dief’s not—”

“And further,” Diamond carried on, his voice getting louder, “I would like to know how it is that an unofficial partner in this case managed to be credited for my client’s arrest. That seems an obvious oversight on the part of the Chicago PD, wouldn’t you agree, Detective?”

“Well, maybe, but—”

“I move that the court be adjourned until such time as Constable Diefenbaker’s paperwork can be presented in full.”

“That might be kind of tricky,” Ray muttered.

“Your Honor?” asked Diamond, and Ray glanced over to see the judge nodding.

Diamond grinned at him with all his teeth, and before Ray could get another word in edgewise, he was being slapped with an injunction and told that he had 24 hours to get the paperwork in, otherwise he’d be held in contempt.

Ray left the courthouse in a daze. He was halfway home when he saw the little cafe on the corner was open, so he parked the GTO out front and headed in for a half-dozen doughnuts.

The wolf was going to need some buttering up.


	2. Chapter 2

Ben paused outside his and Ray’s apartment, listening to Ray’s voice on the other side of the door.

“Yeah, I know, I know. But I need your help, Dief, you’ve got to give me something.”

There was a muffled reply from Diefenbaker, and then Ben heard movement. He headed inside and was surprised to see Ray sitting on the kitchen floor with a plate of doughnuts between him and the half-wolf. Dief looked up, acknowledging Ben’s presence, then snorted at Ray and trotted over to his chair by the turtle tank.

“Hey, Frase,” Ray sighed.

“Ray,” said Ben hesitantly. “What’s going on?”

Ray glared after Diefenbaker. “Told you we should have done this before Fraser got home. Now you’re going to have to explain it, and Dad’s going to get us both in trouble.”

“Dad? Uh,” Ben sputtered. “You know, Ray, I’m afraid I don’t—”

But Ray was grinning up at him. “That look on your face, Fraser, it almost makes this whack-o bad day worth it.”

He extended a hand, and Ben hauled him to his feet. Kept hauling, in fact, until he was kissing Ray’s smile and resting his hands on Ray’s hips. Ben held him close, reveling as ever in the warmth that another body, pressed so close to his, could produce. Ray’s heat had kept him alive in the Arctic tundra, but it was just as welcome here in Chicago.

Finally, Ben pulled away from Ray’s mouth. “Whack-o bad day?” he repeated.

Ray’s eyes stayed closed as he hummed happily. “Better now,” he murmured.

Ben let go and dodged the plate of doughnuts on his way back to the front door to remove his boots. “So, I take it court didn’t go very well?” he prompted.

Ray shrugged. “You could say that.”

Ben frowned. “What happened? Did the charges against Mr. Gruber get dropped?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Ray replied quickly. He picked the plate up off the floor and started putting the doughnuts back into their box. “But I’ve been threatened with content.”

“Con— oh,” said Ben as he caught Ray’s meaning. His fingers fumbled on the collar of his uniform, and the stiff serge scraped his skin. “Why?”

“Old Jackie Boy found a typo in my report. Wants to use it to get his client off on a goddamn technicality.” Ray shoved the box of doughnuts closed and pushed it away. “Scumbags, both of them.”

Ben tossed his red tunic in the direction of the couch — normally he’d go straight to the bedroom to hang it up, but tonight it could wait. “What kind of typo?”

“You’re not going to believe it, but that... caribou dick thinks Dief’s a cop.” 

A small laugh bubbled out of Ben’s mouth before he could stop it. “What?”

“I know, it’s funny,” Ray went on. “Or it was at first. But the judge wouldn’t let me explain, Frase. And your wolf is...” He glared at Dief again, who was ignoring him by glaring at the turtle. “Not helping.”

Diefenbaker looked over and started vocalizing his side of the story, which involved coming home from a long day of babysitting, wanting nothing more than a nap, and being pestered about case details before he’d even been offered his dinner.

“Oh, please,” Ben scoffed. “Like Francesca didn’t already feed you.”

Dief sent him a glance that could only be translated as _Not the point_.

“I thought maybe he’d agree to let me sign him up as a police dog—”

Diefenbaker snarled in protest.

“But, yeah, what he said,” Ray finished, waving a hand in the wolf’s direction. He sank onto the sofa and began to leaf through the mess of papers on the coffee table. “There’s got to be some paperwork, one of our old reports or something, where we mention he’s a half-wolf, right? But I can’t find anything.”

Ben hesitated, then began gently, “You know, Ray, if you kept your files a little more organized—”

“Zip it,” Ray snapped without looking up.

“...Understood.”

Diefenbaker sent Ben a pleading look and let out a complicated series of barks and woofs.

“What’d he say?” asked Ray.

“I think he wants to go to court with you tomorrow, testify in person,” Ben translated. “Or... in wolf.”

The wolf warbled in agreement, his tail thumping hopefully against the leather seat of his chair.

“Not going to happen, buddy,” Ray continued sternly. “Doughnuts are the best I can do. Nobody’ll believe you’re a cop, even if we gave you a funny hat.”

Dief grumbled and rested his head on his paws.

“Ray, I’m certain that we could convince the court that this was an error and nothing more,” Ben suggested reasonably. “If you meet with Judge Samuels in her chambers tomorrow—”

“Twenty-four hours, Frase. I’ve got twenty-four hours to either find paperwork that proves Dief isn’t RCMP, or else I’m sunk. All the evidence we got on this creep will be inadmittable.”

Ben cocked his head to the side in confusion. “Don’t you mean inadmissible?”

“That’s what I said,” Ray replied, and Ben let it go. “What am I going to do, Fraser? We never keep official records on the crazy shit you and Dief find. If we did, I’d be laughed off the force.”

Ben nodded thoughtfully. It was true: his unofficial partnership with the Chicago PD went mostly undetected. Ben guessed it was because he and Ray got results; Lieutenant Welsh was more than willing to turn a blind eye when he had to. But it had seemed sensible to include Diefenbaker’s involvement in the animal cruelty case Ray was working — it was only fair, and it added a touch of poetic justice for what Gruber had done to the dogs they found on his property. Thankfully, the animals had more or less recovered now, and, had they not all been adopted, Ben would have taken one in.

“Maybe we should just deputize him,” Ray suggested tiredly. “Make all his dreams come true.”

Ben looked sharply at Ray and grinned as he was struck with a plan, all at once. “Actually, Ray, I think I have a better idea...”


	3. Chapter 3

Fraser wouldn’t tell Ray his plan, which was never a good sign. He just said he’d take care of it, like he was mobbed up or something (which Ray doubted but could kind of picture), and then he and Dief took off for the Consulate right after dinner.

“We’ll return in a few hours,” he said. “By the time we get back, everything will be right as rain.”

Ray trailed him to the door, only a little distracted by Fraser’s ass in those tight jeans he loved so much. “But what about the case? That’s not right as anything, that’s—”

“Not to worry, Ray,” Fraser assured him with a kiss. “I’ll handle it.”

“You say that, but I’m the one going to be sitting in a jail cell if this goes sidewinds.”

“Sideways,” Fraser corrected. He picked up his hat and opened the door. “Trust me, Ray. Come, Diefenbaker.”

“Don’t you want a ride?” Ray called after him.

“No, thank you,” Fraser replied, spinning and walking backwards down the hall. “Just relax. I think there’s a curling match on channel six.”

“I hate you,” Ray answered, but Fraser just tipped his hat and headed for the stairs.

Ray went back into the apartment and stood in the kitchen for a moment, trying to think of something he could do. He was tempted to jump in the GTO and chase Fraser down, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good; Fraser probably wouldn’t even get in the car, and Ray would just get a ticket for impeding traffic while they argued.

“Crazy Mountie,” he muttered at last. “I’m going to jail.”

Ray opened the fridge and grabbed the last bottle of Canadian beer they’d brought back from Regina a month ago. He’d been saving it for a special occasion, and Ray figured he couldn’t get much more special than the night before a trip to prison.

* * *

At some point, Ray must have fallen asleep in front of the Blackhawks game because the next thing he knew, Fraser was coaxing him off the couch and down the hall. They had a muzzy conversation as he got into bed — Ray bragged about the Hawks crushing the Flames — and snuggled up to Fraser’s warm, solid back.

Ray woke up sometime later with the remnants of a dream about dancing doughnuts rattling around in his head. Fraser was sleeping like a log beside him. Ray blinked into the darkness, trying to pinpoint the sound that had woken him up, when he heard it again.

He turned, and there was Dief, sitting beside the bed, looking into his face expectantly.

“What’s the matter?” Ray mumbled. “You need to go out?”

Dief made that strange sound again, and he took a few steps towards the foot of the bed.

“All right, all right,” Ray whispered. “But I hope you know that you’re turning into an old fogey, getting up to pee in the middle of the night.”

He shivered slightly at the cool wood floor under his feet, but he made it to the front door and slipped into his jacket, stifling a yawn when he bent down to pull on his shoes. He had his hand on the doorknob before he realized Dief wasn’t with him.

“Dief?” he called softly.

But there was no answer; Dief usually chose to be deafest at times like this. With a sigh, Ray stepped back out of his shoes and padded over to the kitchen, where Dief was nosing at the edge of the table.

“What are you doing?”  Ray hissed, when the wolf hopped up and knocked a stack of papers to the floor. “You’re making a mess.”

Dief ignored him and rustled the papers with his paws, then looked up like he was waiting for Ray to notice something. Ray crouched down and examined the pages. He fumbled up with one hand, grabbing his glasses from the table, and squinted at Fraser’s neat handwriting in the half-light from the street.

“What is this?” he asked.

Dief let out an impatient huff, which Ray interpreted as, _Just read it, dumbass_.

_What follows is the complete and accurate account of Constable Diefenbaker, as transcribed on February 22 nd, by Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP._

_At approximately 9:00pm on  December 12 th, I was in pursuit of dinner, accompanied by my superior officers, Constable Benton Fraser (or Alpha) and Detective Ray Kowalski (or Alpha Mate)._

_I happened across a squirrel that demanded my attention. I gave chase on foot, only for the squirrel to elude capture by climbing up the trunk of a nearby tree. I attempted to requisition equipment that might allow Alpha and his mate to capture the suspect, but I was informed that this was not a priority. While investigating the tree, I noticed the peculiar scent of canine blood and at once alerted Alpha. To my dismay, Alpha was preoccupied by the pheromones of his mate, which had prompted him to press his mate against the tree trunk and perform what I am told is an action of tremendous import._

“Oh, boy,” Ray muttered. He stopped reading and gave Dief a wry look. “How much of this was actually you, and how much was that, uh, what do you call it, creative licensing?”

Dief let out a long sigh.

“Yeah, that’s kind of what I thought,” Ray replied. “What do we do?”

Dief turned at once and dug through the scattered papers until he found a blank Chicago PD incident report and nudged it in Ray’s direction. He then ran to the front door and returned with a pen and an ink pad.

“Where did you get—? Oh, never mind,” Ray said, shaking his head. “So what do you want me to do?”

Dief stepped on a page of Fraser’s report, holding it still, and pressed his nose flat in three places. Ray picked up the paper and peered at the wet spots.

_Facts. Justice. Vengeance._

“I don’t get it, buddy,” Ray sighed. “What do you want me to do?”

Dief snorted, which Ray thought was the wolf equivalent of rolling his eyes, and Ray paused. Fraser had already written a report — a six-page report — and Ray didn’t have to a be a good detective to see that this wasn’t the best solve. Diamond wouldn’t believe for a second that Fraser could actually speak Dief’s language, let alone transcribe the details, and if Ray brought Fraser and Dief into the courtroom to try and prove it...

Ray shuddered. That would just make a bad situation worse. He looked back at the incident report, the pen, and the ink that Dief had brought him, and considered his options. Dief waited, unusually still, until Ray saw the solution. 

“Oh, I get you,” he said at last. He chuckled and tapped the side of his nose. “We’ll show that defense attorney, won’t we, bud?”

Dief made a sound that was almost a laugh. Ray picked up the pen in his left hand and started to scrawl in big, sloppy letters across the neat lines of the incident report page.

_Diefenbaker find sign of BAD MAN CRIME on tree. DOG BLOOD!!! Diefenbaker CHASE and POUNCE and BITE and RAY arrest! GO JAIL BAD MAN. GOOD BOY DIEFENBAKER._

“What do you think?” Ray asked, holding it up.

Dief woofed happily.

“Okay, now come here and sign it.”

Two quick, careful steps later, they were finished. Ray washed Dief’s paw with soapy water, and hoped there wouldn’t be any traces of purple in the morning.

“Here,” said Ray, when he was done. He took the box of doughnuts down from the counter and opened it. “I think we’ve earned a midnight snack, don’t you? Just one, though, or your Dad will never let me hear the end of it.”

Dief made a big show of carefully sniffing each doughnut before settling on the jelly, as Ray knew he would.

“Not a word about this tomorrow, okay?” Ray said, taking a bite of his own doughnut. “We’ll tell him the truth once Gruber’s in jail.”

Dief said something, but his mouth was full of pastry. Still, Ray gave him the benefit of the doubt.

“Good work, Constable. You just might make Detective one day.”

Dief nudged his head under Ray’s head, and Ray gave his ears a good long scratch.

“Aw,” Ray crooned. “Love you too, buddy.”


End file.
